


Rules & Regulations

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had decided the office was off limits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules & Regulations

They had decided, some time ago when this started, that the office was off limits. They would be proper when working, they wouldn't touch but in the most professional-like manners. Roy wonders if they came upon this agreement for the work's sake or to make meeting at the office more exciting, riled with the forbidden. He cannot imagine any time when meeting Hawkeye would not feel exciting to him.

Breda might crack unfunny jokes about it and Falman would raise an eyebrow and make a face like he was mentally considering the appropriate punishment for such a breach of etiquette. And they might have taken advantage of a moment in which they were left behind, alone, for a couple of minutes, a furtive brush of lips or fingers, hand upon the other's hand, secret, under the table, during coffee breaks. They had stretched their freedom in small, naive ways like these.

But nothing *untoward* had happened yet. Nothing until today, that is.

 

*

 

The lazy, hazy thought in Roy's mind as he fidgets and wiggles and finally settles, almost cross-legged, under Hawkeye's weight: it's not like it was their fault, really. It's not like they wanted to notice everybody had gone home already and they still had at least two towering piles of paperwork to do; and it's not like it's exactly their fault the girl running the Archives left them with the key of the basement because her workday had ended and it's definitely not their fault that rummaging through boxes of five-years-old files was _so boring_.

In hindsight – while Hawkeye is sucking that spot of soft skin behind his earlobe – maybe it was _his fault_, coming from behind her, not startling her because she always waits for him, and putting his arms around her waist. That was a first step, the first violation of their code.

After that first one, it became easy to keep on breaking the rules, a long kiss here, one improper hand over a breast here, and the point of no return, the absolute moment in which they could have hardly been stopped, was Roy pressing his palm to the inside of her bare thigh and burying his head between her legs, getting her off with tongue and fingers, astonishingly fast (Roy guessed what they said about illicit office encounters was true), in the middle of the basement, with boxes of case files and forgotten papers surrounding them like witnesses.

Hawkeye is straddling him now; Roy darts one hand from her hip to the curve of her bare ass, remembering with pride the swift gesture with which she had thrown her uniform trousers and underwear aside, but kept her boots on.

`You didn't lock the door,´ she says.

`No,´ he replies absentmindedly, absorbed in the simple gesture of brushing a strand of hair – she was careless or maybe he did this when he pressed her against the shelves – off her cheek and back in place behind her ear. He does this with intense focus, as if right now it was the most important and arousing thing in the world.

`Anyone could come in, right now,´ Hawkeye states.

`Well...´ He sighs, because he feels he has to reply with something, but doesn't really have any information on the matter.

He thinks there's a contradiction between Hawkeye's tone, severe, almost admonishing, and her actions, the hand on his lap, the fingers unzipping him as she says this, as if the two – voice and fingers – didn't belong to the same person.

`You'll traumatize Fuery. Or Falman,´ she says.

`I'm quite confident they know about this by now.´

Roy makes a gesture between them, to prove the point, as she takes him in her hand and Roy draws a long breath, feeling the dusty basement air scratch the back of his throat as he does.

`You'll traumatize them with the visuals,´ Hawkeye clarifies.

`I'm quite confident they'd survive.´

A lopsided grin.

`I thought we had a rule,´ she sighs.

Roy frowns. Funny, he thinks, because he is pretty sure she is the one who sat on his lap here. Okay, he was the one who spread her legs and kissed her and flickered his tongue and sucked and lapped. But in any case the way her hand twisted on his hair, pulling him up and pushing him down, guiding his movements, that wasn't exactly a deterrent. The way she had moaned his name wasn't exactly a sign of disagreement.

But he worries that she might be serious. He worries they didn't think it through – so it wasn't exactly his fault but he was the one who touched her first and he knows he could have waited until they were home, like they had been doing all these months – and that now something has been spoiled for Hawkeye.

He looks up at her with a concerned expression, his touch heavy on her hips.

Hawkeye shoots him a glance as well, tilting her head, raising one eyebrow.

`Well,´ she shrugs, but then she gives him a bright and clearly, mischievous smile. `I guess we can break it _once_.´

Roy's jaw drops just a bit, but Hawkeye's hands are sure and light, one on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, the other between their bodies, guiding him inside her. He lets go of her hips, lets her fall forward onto him, feels all her weight. Hawkeye hooks her arms behind his head, faces and noses and foreheads pressed together breathing the same air, and she pushes herself up with her knees, allowing Roy to hold her – one hand, open-palmed on her back – and buck up against her in long, breathless thrusts.

`Okay, once,´ he repeats, panting.

 

*

 

He is leaning against the shelves containing files marked "_M - P_", head thrown back and eyes closed, letting the dull light on the ceiling, turn red and duller under his eyelids. Hawkeye is resting upon his thigh, with her head finding the crook of his elbow and Roy's arm is going numb but he doesn't care at all. She is breathing heavily like him, needing a moment after it all, her clothes at her side and Roy watches the curve of her leg and half wants he could stretch his arm and touch it right now, but his arm is numb under her weight and his other hand is busy with fingers buried in her hair, messing her carefully made up professional style. He smiles at her. It doesn't matter, because this is off working hours anyway.

And yes, he admits it, the whole thing was exciting, fucking in the office, when they should have been working, and doing it with their backs to an unlocked door (even if the chances of someone coming to the archives at this hour were near zero, and nobody would have been that much traumatized, in any case). The thrill of it, yes, Roy could understand that in his own, innocent way.

And it wasn't entirely his fault, but he can't say it won't happen again.


End file.
